


the taste of red and black

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Corsetry, Dominant Kylo Ren, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Stiletto Heels, Stockings, Submissive Armitage Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Ren tries on a new outfit for his smitten general.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	the taste of red and black

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick drabble based on [ArsTyrannus' art](https://twitter.com/arstyrannus/status/1228423850939092992). Happy Valentine's Day!

When Ren reenters the living room, Hux tries and immediately fails to feign indifference to him. 

Instead, he ends up spluttering and nearly spilling his cup of caf into his lap, though the thwarted deluge of boiling hot water into his crotch does little to tame the rising heat in his groin that sprouts up the moment he fully processes the reality of Ren’s change of clothing. 

Gone is the pleated tunic and long cape Ren had worn when he’d first invited Hux into his quarters for an impromptu after-shift break. Ren’s attempt at a call for a ceasefire, Hux had assumed, his version of the proverbial olive branch a cup of watery caf and a sparse conversation in Ren’s equally as sparse quarters. But apparently, this is something more. 

_Much_ more. 

For Ren has changed into an outfit Hux can only describe as reminiscent of an exotic burlesque dancer he had once witnessed a couple of petty officers trying to sneak aboard the ship for a secret stag party. He’d admonished and punished the perpetrators back then for their depravity and breach of conduct becoming of the First Order, but no reproof comes to mind as he fully absorbs the brunt of Ren’s new appearance. It's such a dramatic change, it's hard for Hux to believe what he's seeing upon first glance. So he blinks rapidly, to clear away any tricks his eyes might be playing on him, and looks Ren's outfit over again. 

Fine fishnet stockings that travel up to mid-thigh, connected by black straps to an underbust corset that lifts Ren’s considerable pectorals and pulls in his waist, giving him a figure that looks voluptuous but retains his usual laden, top-heavy bulk. Red piping on the corset forms an array of designs from back to front, transitioning from roses to more abstract designs that, to Hux, look like the inner workings of a motherboard. They culminate in an eye-catching line below the sternum, taking on the appearance of what looked like a stylized version of Ren’s saber, peppered here and there with a type of red glitter that also adorns Ren’s bared collarbones, thighs, and the arrogant slopes of his cheekbones. In the stark light of the living room, it’s hard to tell whether Ren was wearing some kind of gloss on his lips, or if they had really always been that plump and moist and pink, and Hux had just never noticed. 

But Ren had certainly noticed Hux’s interest in him growing over these past couple of months that they’d been working more closely together. Why else would he throw on such an ensemble out of the blue? Shedding his ghoulish outfit, his _mask_ , and putting on all this with such an alluring aura of confidence Hux would’ve never expected from a stripped-down, dolled-up Ren. Someone had probably helped him, encouraged him to do this, but none of the filthy degenerates that he called his “knights” looked like they knew anything at all about fashion. 

Perhaps it is futile to try to make sense of it. After all, he visual feast of leather and red embroidery and striking pale skin stretched over imposing bone and supple muscle is quickly turning Hux’s brain to something like the protein gruel they fed low-ranking troopers in the mess hall. 

“My,” Hux starts, immediately losing his train of thought as he grasps for his usual wit and composure. “My,” he instead repeats, like an idiot, then takes a bracing sip of the caf, which has started to grow cold, or perhaps he has just become too hot. His uniform is getting a little stuffy it seems, sticking to his skin with sweat and tightening around his crotch.

 _"_ What's the occasion for such...ostentation, Lord Ren?" Hux says, trying to school his voice into its usual measured register, to little avail. He clings tightly to the cup of caf, unsure and afraid of what he might do with his hands otherwise. 

“Don't look so surprised, general,” Ren starts, speaking low and slower than usual, retaining all his usual commanding tone but with less of the disdainful tinge he typically carried when talking down to Hux. “There's no need for your usual pretense. I know this is how you’d like to see me. I’ve pulled it directly from your mind’s deepest desires, after all.”

“Have you?” Hux snorts, scooting back to sit with his spine sandwiched against the back of the couch, eyes questing for the least obscenely attractive part of Ren in this outfit, but it’s largely futile with so much sheer eroticism on display. “I assure you, Lord Ren, I keep my mind free of degenerate fantasies whenever I’m on shift. And at all times,” he quickly adds. “If anything, this represents _your_ desires. To prance about in such slatternish clothes and breach more than a couple of the Order’s protocols of proper conduct. I shouldn't have expected anything less...” It’s a weak, somewhat clunky insult, and Ren doesn’t flag in the slightest. Instead he smirks, raises an eyebrow, and tosses his long, glossy hair. Hux bites his lip on a moan. 

“You think your defenses are far stronger than they really are. It was easy for me to pick out your most... _sordid_ , taboo fantasy. Far too easy. You've wanted someone to do this to you for years, it's built up inside of you until it was impossible not to pick up on it.” Ren walks on over to him without preamble or hesitation, hand on his hip, heels clicking against the floor. Hux flinched with each noise, though he tried to keep restrained. But _stars_. A man like Ren hardly needs heels of any significant height to appear intimidating, and with those thin stilettoes that seem precarious yet expertly balance his bulk, he towers above everything else in the room, made to look positively mastodonic.

Hux shrinks in his seat, feeling small even as more blood surges to his cock and coaxes it to swell larger and hungrier with each passing heartbeat. He swallows. This can’t be happening, can it? It must be some sort of dream, or delusion. Perhaps he was being choked, and this was his last gasp of consciousness, brain trying to provide him with something nice before it shriveled up from lack of air. 

Ren’s foot comes stomping down on the firm couch cushion between Hux’s legs, making him jolt out of his trance. The caf tumbles from his hands, cup crashing to the floor, but the sound seems distant, as if heard through water or dense static. Ren’s pecs stare him right in the face as if striving to prove it was possible to hypnotize a man with lust alone—strong, measured breath causing them to move slightly, shifting above the tight bonds of the corset. Hux wants to lean forward and bite, maybe twist one of Ren’s dark nipples between his teeth and make him moan, but Ren’s large hand stops him, valley between his thumb and forefinger cradling Hux’s chin as he digs his fingers lightly into the general’s cheek. Ren had swapped out his usual bulky, utilitarian gloves for ones made of thinner, sleeker material, so Hux could still feel the edge of his nails beneath it. 

Eager to level the playing field and reciprocate Ren's passion with his own, Hux dares to stroke the prominent thigh before him, fingers moving from pale, mottled skin to pop one of the garter belts off the stocking of Ren’s raised leg. He feels Ren shiver, the bulge in the panties he wears achingly apparent now that they’re close enough to share breath. Hux can only imagine how that dark, dense lace wreathing Ren’s length will feel rubbing against his own cock. He lets out a soft groan, eyelids fluttering as he digs his fingers into the sheer material of Ren’s stocking, other hand diving to massage his crotch—

“Don’t.” Ren didn’t bother restraining Hux’s hand, not even with the Force, his palm instead moving over to clasp the front of his throat, stalling any movement Hux was making towards his groin all on its own. “Any pleasure you receive this evening will come from me and me alone.” Ren squeezed lightly, the deadly strength he held in reserve thrillingly apparent. “You will not touch yourself until I order you to. Is that clear, general?”

Hux’s tongue, dry as it was with lust and fear, still managed to flick out and lick toyingly across his lips as his throat bobbed beneath the texture of Ren’s glove.

“Yes, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just gonna say that it was probably Kuruk that bought Kylo that ensemble and laced him up into the corset. He'd been pining over Hux for months, and the Knights were growing tired of it. 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


End file.
